The Original Mozartkugeln

For the last 20 or 30 years (here my memory is not reliable at all so I'm approximating), I have received from my mother on Christmas morning a box of Mozartkugeln. I don't know why she first bought me these chocolates but I'm guessing it is because they contained marzipan, which I loved as a kid growing up in England but which we struggled to find after we moved to the United States.

For the uninitiated, a Mozartkugeln (literally "Mozart ball") is a chocolate containing pistachio marzipan covered in a layer of nougat coated with dark chocolate and they are absolutely delicious. I love getting these chocolates for Christmas and they don't last long. I'd say mid-January at the latest and they are all gone. Just so I am clear on this, German nougat is traditionally a chocolate and hazelnut praline which is different than the term sometimes used to describe other candy in the United States; this ain't the same stuff in Snickers.

The Mozartkugeln my mother buys me are made by the Reber company located in Bad Reichenall in southeast Bavaria. But the origin of the Mozartkugeln is in the chocolates' namesake Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's home town of Salzburg, Austria. The chocolates were introduced to the world in 1890 by Paul Fürst, a Salzburg chocolatier. The original Mozartkugeln were a sensation if for no other reason than they were spherical, which Fürst achieved by placing the marzipan and nougat ball on a stick, dipping it in chocolate and setting it to dry vertically on the stick. When the chocolate had dried, the stick was removed and the hole filled with chocolate. The Mozartkugeln was then wrapped in Fürst's signature blue and silver foil for sale. I know the method of achieving spherical chocolates is not revolutionary, but we're talking 1890 here.

The contenders: the original Mozartkugeln in my right hand; the Reber version in my left.

Until this month, I had never had a Mozartkugeln other than the ones my mother buys me. But on July 4 of this year, I visited Cafe Fürst in Salzburg to sample an original Mozartkugeln or two. I came to Europe equipped with a few Reber Mozartkugeln, afraid that I would be unable to find these in Salzburg, so I could compare. My fears in this regard were completely unfounded. In addition to being able to purchase them in a ton of stores, Reber actually has at least two stores of their own in Salzburg's altstadt. The taste test was on!

I started with the incumbent and very familiar Reber that I had brought with me (purchased at Cafe Mozart in D.C. in case you live near Washington and want to go get some of your own).  The original Mozartkugeln, as I mentioned before, contains pistachio marzipan wrapped in nougat. The Reber version is a departure from the original. It actually has three layers below the chocolate coating: a center of nougat, the marzipan which makes up way more than 50% of the candy's volume, and a final layer of nougat outside the marzipan. It's sort of a Mozartkugeln in reverse.

Because of the proportion of the ingredients, the Reber Mozarkugeln tastes almost entirely of the pistachio marzipan, with only a faint hint of chocolate flavor. For the marzipan lover, it's always a delicious bite and satisfies very well the craving for this ingredient that I brought with me as a kid to the United States.

The Reber Mozartkugeln.

After I devoured the Reber candy in two quick bites, the Fürst Mozartkugeln was next, freshly purchased from the Cafe Fürst on the Alter Markt for one Euro. Biting into the Fürst version is quite different than the Reber candy. It is a true Mozartkugeln, containing the traditional pistachio marzipan center wrapped in a hazelnut and chocolate nougat.

The taste is sweeter and way more chocolate forward, a conclusion easily drawn from comparing the amount of chocolate in the picture below to the chocolate above. The taste of hazelnut is also prominent and who doesn't love hazelnut and chocolate? Overall the flavor is more complex. You can taste the chocolate first and foremost, followed by the hazelnut and then finally the pistachio marzipan. It's way more layered than the Reber version, rather than being all about the marzipan. It also has the nostalgic charm of being the original, rather than an imitation. Authenticity appeals to me.

Cafe Fürst's original Mozarkugeln.

I intended to visit Salzburg to find the true Mozartkugeln and declare a winner in my taste test. To this end, I enlisted my friends Mike and Bryan, giving them each one Mozartkugeln from each contender. I believe I did find the true Mozartkugeln but I can't declare a winner. I am a complete sucker for original things and usually disdain copies. But while the Fürst is undoubtedly richer and more complex, it was a little sweet for me and doesn't hit you over the head with marzipan flavor, which for me is what eating these chocolates is all about. I liked both, but if I could only have one for the rest of my life, I'd opt for the Reber. I just love them too much.

The original Mozartkugeln was well liked by our taste test panel. Mike and Bryan actually both preferred the Fürst Mozartkugeln. That doesn't make it a 2-1 victory. It's my blog after all.

Rock Me Amadeus

Salzburg Cathedral seen through one of the cannon ports in Fortress Hohensalzburg.

It's been three weeks now since I've returned from Bavaria. My blogging has been derailed by a trip to Vegas and a visit with my niece but I think it's about time I got back to my what-I-did-on-my-summer vacation posts before the impressions of that trip become too dulled by the liters of German beer I consumed while over there.

After four nights in Munich, my Bavarian itinerary took me to Salzburg, Austria for a couple of days before returning back to Germany for three more nights. The side trip to Salzburg was primarily to get us closer to the Berchtesgaden National Park but I thought crossing the border would allow us to take in the culture of a different city, learn a little bit about the city's most famous son, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and find some apple strudel.

The trip from Munich to Salzburg by train takes about two hours, about the same time as it took to get to Hohenschwangau two days earlier. And just like the trip to Hohenschwangau, the ride to Austria takes you from the flat country around Munich into the beginnings of the Alps, although the terrain becomes hillier way sooner. You start to see mountains in the distance about a half an hour into the journey and the climb is pretty obvious.

As a city, Salzburg is a lot smaller than where we had been the previous few days, with a population of about 200,000 compared to over 1.3 million in Munich in an area about one fifth the size. Both cities have an old city or altstadt. Munich's is walkable in about 30-45 minutes; Salzburg's takes about 15. The city is established along the river Salzach and is situated around a large hill which is topped by a forbidding looking castle. The altstadt, complete with the church after church after church which are ubiquitous in Bavaria, sits at the bottom of the hill. The entirety of Salzburg's altstadt is designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its collection of baroque buildings. Perhaps embarrassingly, we compared walking down the streets of the altstadt to walking in the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas. What can I say...we are sometimes very American.

Settlement in the Salzburg area stretches back to before the time of Christ but the place became the beginnings of today's city in the late seventh century under the Archbishopric of Salzburg. From that time until the city's surrender to Napoleon in 1803, the city was church run, with the succession of Archbishops of Salzburg as the city's top official. There were times that the city was part of the Holy Roman Empire during this period, but whoever the Archbishop was at the time remained essentially the ruler of the city. This was very much a revelation for me. I had run out of time to research the history and importance of the city prior to starting this trip. As it turned out, the two major buildings we visited were both built by the Archbishopric and served as very different illustrations of that office's power.

The most prominent building in Salzburg is Fortress Hohensalzburg (literally high salt fortress - Salzburg was named for salt, the source of its wealth), first erected atop the city's highest hill in the year 1077 and added to over the subsequent centuries. Construction of the fortress was started by Archbishop Gebhard von Helfenstein as protection from the Holy Roman Emperor in the event that there was some dispute between the Emperor and the seated Pope because the Archbishop would inevitably take the side of the Pope. Apparently in those days, disputes could easily devolve into armed conflicts. Actually it's probably not much different today. 

After a couple of days climbing large hills / small mountains in Hohenschwangau and Andechs, the climb to the base of Fortress Hohensalzburg looked daunting. Fortunately, we elected to spend a couple of extra Euros on the funicular ride which got us to the top in about two minutes. Once you are at the base of the fortress, the entire city of Salzburg becomes visible and you can really understand how packed the altstadt is.

The Fortress itself is huge. It's like a small city built to hold the entire population of Salzburg in condensed form. It is without doubt a real castle built to withstand sieges, unlike the two castles I visited in Hohenschwangau two days earlier. The Fortress was equipped with its own water and salt stores for curing food, meaning the city had the ability to withstand assault for some time. The Fortress, as it turns out, was never taken by force and that's very easy to understand having visited. Not that I'd want to try to take over any castle, but looking up at Fortress Hohensalzburg, the thought of conquering it seems extremely daunting. The only time it was ever turned over was when the region surrendered to Napoleon during his conquest of Europe.

Interior of Fortress Hohensalzburg.

From the tower of Fortress Hohensalzburg looking about 8 km to the south, one can make out Hellbrun Palace at the base of a small hill. This was our next destination. Just like the Fortress, Hellbrun Palace was also built by the Archbishopric of Salzburg. But instead of being built for protection of the entire city, Hellbrun Palace was built basically as a day trip getaway for the Archbishop to party with neighboring noblemen. I'm not kidding.

The Palace was built from 1613-1619 by Archbishop Markus Sittikus von Hohenems. Apparently the Archbishopric was flush with cash in the early 1600s because the whole place was built entirely for his own amusement. The property features a small palace (OK, small for a palace) with room after room for entertaining and then vast gardens with the main attraction being a series of fountains to entertain, soak and sometimes just make fun of guests visiting for the day.

The highlight here truly is the fountains and I can imagine at the time these were first built that they were amazing to behold. There are static fountains featuring many many ibexes (the Archbishop's personal symbol); man made grottoes with fountains made to amuse visitors; various scenes featuring mechanical figures which move based on the movement of water nearby; and hidden fountains designed purely to douse the guests.

Some of these fountains, all seen via a timed tour, are actually really remarkable considering they were built 400 years ago. The most impressive for me was the fountain that elevates and lowers a shining crown on a column of water. The rise and fall of the crown symbolizes the rise and fall of royal power, which to me just illustrates how much power the church enjoyed 400 years ago in Salzburg. They clearly thought they would outlast royal rule. I guess nobody rules forever.

The Roman Fountain. If you go and the guide asks for volunteers to sit at the table, do it. But sit at the head. Trust me.

The juxtaposition of these two attractions on this day was not intentional but provided a good overview of the history of the city before exploring some lesser attractions. The remainder of our time in Salzburg was spent roaming the altstadt; eating and drinking; and visiting the two Mozart themed attractions, his birthplace and his family's residence. If you decide to go to these last two, take my advice and just visit his birthplace. The building is original to Mozart (rather than a reconstruction like the residence) and tells the story far more authentically and thoroughly than the residence. If your aim is to know how to identify portraits of Mozart, go to the residence. It covers that subject in great detail throughout its six rooms. For me it offered little else.

Pilgrimage To Andechs Abbey

The chestnut tree canopy over Andechs' beer garden. Chestnut trees are traditional in German beer gardens.

The first recorded pilgrimage to the Holy Mountain at Andechs occurred in the year 1128 when Berthold II, Count of Andechs, ordered his subjects to make the journey to the site to venerate the holy relics held in the Chapel of St. Nicholas. Since that time, pilgrims have been visiting the site almost continuously and the town now has the distinction of being the oldest pilgrimage site in Bavaria. Today, more than 40,000 people in over 130 annual pilgrimages visit Andechs. This week, it was my turn to make the trip, starting out from Munich in the morning by train, continuing by taxi and arriving just before noon on the hill. Not exactly the same arduous trek pilgrims have made over the last millennium plus but it got me there just the same.

The history of what is now Andechs Abbey stretches all the way back to the tenth century when Count Rasso of Andechs brought to Bavaria from the Holy Land what would form the first collection of relics for the Abbey and placed them in the custody of the Chapel of St. Nicholas located in the castle that occupied the site at that time. The initial relics brought to the Chapel are significant: the belt owned by Mary Magdalene, St. John the Evangelist's tunic and several objects associated with Christ himself, including a twig from the crown of thorns; a segment of the scepter of mockery (who knew there was such a thing?); a remnant from the cross; and a piece from the Shroud of Turin. It's understandable therefore that folks would make the journey here to see this stuff and ask for intercession from the saints in their lives.

The timeline of Andechs' built environment since 1128 is a little complicated. I'll try to simplify. In the year 1246, the castle on the site was razed by the Wittelsbachs, the family that ruled Bavaria from 1180 to 1918, leaving only the Chapel intact. From that time on, construction occurred around the Chapel, recreating the site as a complex of buildings. A significant expansion to the church was executed in the Gothic style during the first half of the 15th century and construction continued until 1669 when lightning struck the the church's tower and most of the complex was destroyed by fire. The end of the 17th century was spent rebuilding the site to mostly what it is today. The last major construction event was the remodeling of the church in the Rococo style from 1751-1755 which left the place substantially similar to how it appears today.

Throughout all that history, the relics at the site survived, preserving the reason for pilgrims to visit. After the castle's destruction in 1246, they were thought by many to be lost until excavations near the Chapel's altar in 1388 found them (there are legends about a mouse dragging the relics back to the Chapel but I won't go into all that). Since then, the collection has been expanded to include the bridal gown of St. Elizabeth of Thurlingia (the church today is dedicated to her and St. Nicholas of Myra) and a fragment of the skull of St. Hedwig of Silesia. Gruesome and all very Game of Thrones-ish.

So anyway, back to my own pilgrimage of this week. In the year 1455, a monastery was established at Andechs. The monasteries are extremely important to Europe's history because during the Middle Ages, when western society as a whole took several developmental steps backwards, the monasteries scattered throughout Europe kept important historical documents and traditions, and learning in general, alive. One of the traditions the monasteries kept sacred during this time (and have ever since) is the tradition of brewing beer. Andechs is no exception. Brewing has been ongoing at the monastery at Andechs Abbey since the Middle Ages and the monks there have been renowned as producers of truly excellent beer since the mid nineteenth century. I couldn't go to Bavaria and skip this trip. This is my pilgrimage.

Today, the monks at Andechs regularly brew seven different kinds of beer. It was my sworn mission before going to taste all seven (which are delivered in half liter minimum glasses - about 20 fluid ounces, so seven half liters is just shy of 12 bottles of beer) but I was unable to fulfill that promise to myself since they only bottle the Bergbock Hell and they ran out of the Wiessbeer Dunkel. Being out of the Weissbeer Dunkel took the wind out of my sails a little and I only managed six half liters this day.

But before settling into the Braustuberl for a few liters of beer, I checked out the Abbey's church, which is perched prominently on the highest point of the site. The church is gorgeous outside, typical in form to a lot of other German churches with a steep roof to shed snow and the distinctive onion-esque dome that appears so often throughout the Bavarian countryside. The interior of the church is full on Rococo. Every surface drips with ornament and ostentatious-ness. My friend Mike commented that Christ might not be happy with the amount of excess on display inside the church and he may well be right. Take that however you will.

The scenery around the church is also gorgeous. The view of the German countryside from the hill is amazing. It's difficult to believe when you are out there that we are in the 21st Century sometimes. The day we were there was super clear. You could literally see for miles and miles and miles. But enough about the beauty of the place. The quest was for beer right? Here's what I found.

Round One: Doppelbock Dunkel for me (foreground); Spezial Hell for my friends Bryan (half liter) and Mike (liter).

Round One: Doppelbock Dunkel
The braustuberl at the Abbey had three choices of beer: a Spezial Hell (light colored lager beer), a Weissbeer Hell (light colored wheat beer) and a Doppelbock Dunkel (dark bock style beer). I opted for the darkest of the three as my first round and found it a tad disappointing. I like doppelbocks, especially those that are not cloyingly sweet, which this one was not. Unlike some of the beers we had in Munich over the first few days of this trip, the beer had some body and left some taste on my tongue after I swallowed. But not enough.

Round Two: Wiessbeer Hell
In 1487, Germany created the Reinheitsgebot, or German Purity Law (for beer) which stipulated that beer sold in Germany could only contain three ingredients: water, malted barley and hops. Yeast it seemed at this time might have been the unknown fourth ingredient in all beer. Immediately, this put the Bavarian tradition of weissbeer (or wheat beer) in jeopardy so an exception emerged for Bavaria's wheat beer producers. I like wiessbeers quite a lot, although they sometimes tend to be a bit banana-y for me (don't like bananas at all) so while I was not super excited about German beers before this trip, I was looking forward to tasting some weissbeer. Andechs' version was good, but not great. It was sweet but not banana-y (thank God) but lacked the body of some other German weissbeers I have had.

Round Three: Spezial Hell
The Spezial Hell brewed at Andechs is a typical German golden lager beer, although with a little more taste I thought than Augustinerbrau's version we had in Munich and about tied with Hofbrauhaus' and just a bit behind Hacker-Pschorr's versions. The helles beer style in Germany is quite close to what inspired most American lager beers. They are mostly drinkable and often fairly tasteless. Andechs' version was better than most.

Round Four: Export Dunkel
A dunkel in Germany is pretty much the same as a helles beer but is made with darker roasted malt. There could be (and probably should be) a little more flavor in the beer from the roasted malt. To try Andechs' version of this beer, we walked down the hill a little to the Abbey's beer garden. This beer was good, better than the other dunkels I had in Munich to date on this trip. I could really taste the roasted malt on my tongue. I'd definitely order this again.

Round Five: Volbier Hell
The last version of the Abbey's beer that I tasted before going back and repeating past glasses was simply a sip from my friend Bryan's glass. It's a lighter, more tasteless version of the Spezial Hell. I have no use for this beer.

Look, what do you expect? I'm a tough customer when it comes to beer. I'm glad I went to Andechs for the day. I feel more connected to a part of beer history that I hadn't experienced before my trip. Over the past twenty years I've visited all sorts of breweries, from the biggest single site brewery in the world (Coors) to the last true dusty lambic brewery in Belgium (Cantillon). But I'd never visited a monastery which has been brewing beer for centuries before yesterday. I'd encourage anyone to go and spend the day knocking back a few just like I did if you are ever in Bavaria.

This carving is one of the first things that greets visitors to Andechs Abbey. Wish I had one at home.

Mad King Ludwig's Place

In early 2000, I decided I needed to take a trip to see something way different than I had ever seen before. I was tired of taking vacations in the United States over the prior few years and resolved to go somewhere that was totally different. I eventually narrowed it down to two options: a tour of Finland to see Alvar Aalto's works or a trip to Germany to see what I probably referred to at that time as "that fairy tale castle built on top of a mountain." I ultimately decided to go to Finland and fell in love with Aalto and the Finnish countryside. This past Sunday, I finally made it to the other option I considered in 2000.

That fairy tale castle built on top of a mountain, or Castle Neuschwanstein, as it's officially called, is located in the village of Hohenshwangau in the German Alps. Sunday, I set off from Munich early on the Deutsche Bahn train to see it; the other castle in the village, Castle Hohenschwangau (yes, there are two castles in one village); and whatever else the place had to offer.

The trip is about a two hour train ride heading south southwest. The ride takes you to the town of Füssen over the flat area around Munich, past town after town with church steeple after church steeple,  then into the rolling foothills of the Alps before finally climbing a little until the Alps themselves come into view, about 20 minutes before arrival in the town itself. From there, it's a short bus ride into Hohenshwangau where you join the hordes of tourists in castle-mania. For perspective on this last point, Hohenschwangau is a village of about 1,000 people which entertains an estimated 2,000,000 visitors each year to see the two castles. It's a pretty big deal.

The two castles date from the period when Bavaria was an independent kingdom (1806-1918). In 1832, Crown Prince Maximilian acquired a site containing the remains of Fortress Schuangau, a medieval fortress, and proceeded to build Castle Hohenschwangau atop the ruins of the old fortress. The initial construction of the castle was completed in 1837 but construction of additions continued until 1855. The castle served as the summer home of Maximilian and his wife and the almost permanent residence of his two sons, Ludwig, named after Maximilian's father King Ludwig I, and Otto.

Looking down on Hohenschwangau, with Castle Hohenschwangau in the center of the picture.

In 1848, Maximilian ascended to the throne and became Maximilian II after his father abdicated the throne to marry his Irish born mistress Eliza Gilbert (stage name Lola Montez - it's more complicated than I'm presenting here but this is just background information after all). Maximilian's reign lasted until 1864 when he died suddenly and his eldest son Ludwig was crowned King Ludwig II at the age of 18.

By all accounts, King Ludwig II was not ready to lead the Kingdom of Bavaria in 1864. He was an introvert who spent most of his childhood living out fantasies based on legends and operas. His reign was notable for his patronage of then disgraced composer Richard Wagner and the arts in general and his failures to engage as monarch. He much preferred spending time in Hohenschwangau than dealing with affairs of state in Munich. 

But more than anything else, King Ludwig II will be remembered for the castles he built and Castle Neuschwanstein was his first, inspired by his childhood fantasies, Wagner's operas and his desire to move out of Castle Hohenschwangau and get away from his mother. The result is what I wanted to see 13 years ago when I decided to go to Finland instead. I've been wanting to visit ever since. By the way, while history records that Ludwig may not have been mad (and despite the title of this post), there's some speculation that he was homosexual (not that that makes one mad) and there's no doubt he was the product of inbreeding typical of European monarchs at that time in history. Those factors, combined with his eccentricity as a castle builder, likely led historians to label him Mad King Ludwig.

Munich's Hauptbanhof (Central Station): Departure point for last Sunday's journey.

I elected to visit the castles in the order they were constructed, first spending time at Hohenschwangau before moving on to Neuschwanstein. In doing so, I was essentially saving the best for last. I did, after all, almost base an entire vacation around Neuschwanstein in 2000. I planned ahead (no surprise there) and reserved spots for a tour of each about 2-1/2 hours apart with a gap for lunch in the middle. Making reservations was completely the right call. The ticket line for advance reservations was about 1/5 as long as the regular line and the staff appeared to let us just cut in line to get ahead of those without tickets.

The walk from the village to Castle Hohenschwangau is advertised as about a 30 minute trek. It isn't. It took us a little more than half that, including taking some time to look at Alpsee, the lake to the west, and the surrounding scenery. Tours last a little more than half an hour and leave from the quite small castle garden and forecourt at the top of the hill. In approaching the castle, it becomes obvious that this was not a castle built for siege like those I visited as a child in Great Britain. It's a pretty castle, a very large single family home, if you will, just decorated to look like a castle.

The main functions in the castle are arranged around three floors with King Maximilian's quarters on the second floor, the queen's rooms on the first floor and the third and uppermost floor reserved for the Ludwig and Otto. Only the first two floors are accessible to visitors but that's enough to understand the character of the place. This is clearly a flight of fancy for Maximilian. Almost every surface in the castle is painted with original works connecting the family back to the historical knights of Schuangau. Paintings on Maximilian's floor portray a romanticized life of a knight in the middle ages (presumably Maximilian) complete with bloodless battle scenes of dead bodies strewn about at the feet of the conquering king.

The queen's rooms are not much different, with similar paintings depicting the life (also romanticized) of a lady in the middle ages. The height of the excess in this castle for me was the queen's bed chamber, painted in the Turkish style after a trip the couple took to that country earlier in their marriage. The rooms are admittedly impressive, both for the extreme amount of work that went into painting the rooms but for what else the rooms contain. There is every manner of expensive bauble, from an early elevator to solid silver chandeliers to billiard balls made of ivory. There's no doubt in my mind that the King of Bavaria in the mid-1800s had it pretty good.

Castle Hohenschwangau.

Following the tour of Hohenschwangau, and after a quick lunch of sausages and weissbeer (lots more about that later in this blog), I moved on to Neuschwanstein. If Hohenschwangau appeared to be a flight of fancy, Neuschwanstein is full on fantasy. It absolutely blows Hohenschwangau away, which I am sure was partially Ludwig's intent. It also provided for me a real justification that Ludwig could, in fact, have been mad.

Tours leave from the castle's enclosed courtyard, which is immense. It becomes obvious immediately that this place is way bigger than Castle Hohenschwangau lower in the village. And indeed that's true. Neuschwanstein is huge and very impressive for its sheer size alone. It is definitely worth doing last. If I'd reversed the order of my tours, I'm convinced Hohenschwangau would have been extremely anticlimactic.

The enclosed courtyard of Castle Neuschwanstein.

From the courtyard, the tour takes you up the servant's spiral stair, three floors with large floor to floor heights straight up, as if the tour operators intended to kill off those who aren't that mobile immediately. Upon arrival in the throne room, which is the first real room you visit on the tour, the amount of ego it took to build this place becomes painfully obvious. The rear wall of the throne room is decorated with paintings of canonized former kings of Europe with God himself above them, providing a glimpse into where Ludwig probably saw himself in the history of European rulers.

It gets stranger from there. The place is a Gothic fantasy. Rooms are covered with dark wood carvings and painted scenes of middle ages fantasy and it's dimly lit just like a real medieval castle. There's also a fake cave in the place so Ludwig could act out adventure fantasies. But more than anything else about the castle, Ludwig's fascination with legend and Wagner's operas becomes overpowering by the end of tour. 

The characters Lohengrin, whom Ludwig obviously identified with strongly, and his bride, Elsa, appear in painted scenes throughout the castle again and again. It's made very obvious in the castle how much Ludwig cared about these two as depicted in Wagner's opera, Lohengrin. But in the top floor singers' room, the obsession with Wagnerian opera is on full display. The whole room is based on the opera Parsifal, which tells the story of the knight Pervical, one of King Arthur's knights of the round table, and his quest for the holy grail. The room drips with scenes and imagery from the opera. I think it's understandable perhaps for a kid to cover every surface in his room with Star Wars or whatever movie posters today, but we're talking about a man in his 30s lost in a fantasy world occupied by heroes and legends. It's a little disturbing to think about the excess in full view in the castle. It's amazing to think about the rights afforded to Ludwig at the expense of the Bavarian state. In many ways, it's a good thing he was a king. I'm not sure he could have survived otherwise. 

Despite the evident fantasy of the place, Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau were well worth the trip from Munich. In many respects it was a perfect day trip, about eight hours from start to finish, including a trip up the hill from Neuschwanstein to the Marienbrücke, a bridge built by Maximilian to span between two of the Alpine peaks. There's a lot of walking up hills involved in a day trip to Hohenschwangau but trust me when I tell you that making the extra half mile or so walk (seemingly almost straight up) is worth it. It's only on that bridge that you get the picture postcard view of Neuschwanstein. Despite the deflecting planks on the obviously overloaded bridge, it's worth a few steps out to take in the spectacular scenery.

Making reservations and buying tickets ahead of time: always a good idea.